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THE MERRY MONTHS ALL 



POE.MS BY 

M. E. B 



DESIGNS HV 

FERNAND LUNGREN 




BOSTON 
D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY 

FRANKLIN AND HAWLEY STREETS 






Copyright, 1886, 

by 

D. LoTHRor & Company. 



PRESSWORK BY BERWICK & SMITH, BOSTON. 



JANUARY, 

THE beginnings of things ! 

Bright Uttle springs in the mountains, 

From which great rivers down flow; 
The first pale pink of the roses; 

The first white fall of the snow ; 
Babies, the beautiful darlings. 

Dimpled and winsome and dear; 
The glow of the sky in the morning — 

And the iirst new days of the year ! 

1 love the beginnings of things ! 

For then you feel stronger and braver ; 

More ready to climb and to try; 
The old day of blunders is over. 

The time for mistakes is gone by, 
A.nd somehow or other the future 

Is fuller of light and of cheer. 
When a little maid peeps at the world 

Through the first new days of the year ! 



FEBRUARY. 

Snow, snow, above and below ; 

Holidays over and gone ; 
Frost-bitten trees ; frost-bitten breeze, 

Dragging the winter on ; 
School every day ; not too much play ; 

Most of your Christmas things broke ; 
Sometimes a thaw, with everything raw, 

And slush on your trousers or cloak ; 
The days of betwixt-and-between times 

Are not quite so much of a joke. 

Hold 1 Hold ! Thawing or cold, 

Why need I get in a fret ? 
Plenty of fun, plenty of sun 

Is left in the wide world yet ; 
Hare-and-hound running, hop-scotch and gunning, 

Lacrosse and marbles and ball. 
Skating and sliding, seeking and hiding. 

Come with a whoop and . a call ! 
The days of betwixt-and-between times 

Are not quite so bad after all 1 



MARCW. 

() I III' l)icc/\ March days ! 
( ) [he gay and arch days ! 
When dccj) in sheltered valleys 
A du)ughl of spring-time rallies 
1\) wake the fro/en music 
That winter left behind ; 
And up the hills advancing 
The soft gray clouds come dancing, 
To the bonny lilting measure 
()\ [\\c whistling o' the wind! 

() the breezy March time! 

( ) the ga\' and arch time '. 

When brave and bright and nippmg 

The longer days come tripping, 

And nature, sharp but cheery, 

emails out in accents kind ; 
Vor who would mind her bluster, 
Amid the joys that cluster 
When we hear the summer answer 

To the whistling o' the wind. 



APRIL. 

Tears in a maiden's eyes ! 

Tittle enough they deceive us ; 

Little enough do they grieve us ; 
Well do we know that beneath them 
The joy of young life smiles and glows ; 

Soon into dimples and gladness 

Will break the thin mist of her sadness, 
As out of the showers of April 
Springs upward the bloom of the rose ! 

Rain in the April skies ! 
. What do we care for its falling? 
Thousand faint voices low-calling 

Tell that behind it the sunshine 

Waits, in a passion of. light. 

To set the glad wild bird a-singing, 
To set the wild flower-bells ringing, 

To make the red rose of the morning 

Burst out of the gloom of the night. 




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MAY. 

Not the word, but the soul of the thing I 
Not the name, but the spirit of spring ! 
And so, at morning early, 
Through hedge-rows fresh and pearly, 

Bedecked with hawthorn branches 

And apple blossoms gay. 
Her golden hair around her, 
As if some god had crowned her, 

Across the dewy woodland 

Comes dancing in the May. 

O spirit of hope and of truth ! 
O spirit of beauty and youth ! 
Thine still the olden glory ; 
Thine still the song and story 

Of joyous lads and lasses. 

Of birds upon the spray, 
Of perfumed airs a-blowing. 
Of green things glad with growing, 

Of all the world grown young again 

To welcome in the May. 







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JUNE. 

March is a trumpet flower, 

And April a crocus wild, 
May is a harebell slender 

With the clear blue eyes of a child, 
July is the cup of a tulip 

Where gold and crimson meet, 
And /\ugust a tiger lily, 

Tawny with passion and heat, 

— But thou art the rose of the world, 
Precious and glowing and sweet ! 

Fair is the flush of the dawning 

Over the face of the sky, 
Sweet is the tangle of music 

From wild birds fluttering by, 
BriUiant the glow of the sunset, 

And graceful the bound of the deer, 
Glad is the laugh of the children 

Ringing like joy-bells clear, , 

— But what can compare with thy beauty, 
O red, red rose of the year ! 



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JULY. 

A RED sun rising at morning 

With fiame on his burning crest 
A red sun sinkins: at evenin":, 

In the molten glow of the west ; 
The air grown languid and drooping 

On wings too heavy to tiy ; 
The voice of a drowsy locust 

That croons to a drowsy sky ; 
And cool waves crisping and darkling, 

Across the hot sands of July ! 

Down on the beach with the seashells, 

Their brave brown cheeks aglow, 
I watch the play of the children, 

And follow them to and fro. 
() sweet red lips of my darlings ! 

O light of the fearless eye ! 
With ye comes rest for the spirit ; 

And freshness and peace draw nigh 
Like cool waves crisping and darkling, 

Across the hot sands of July ! 



AUGUST. 

The world is all so busy, 
The world is all so gay, 
There's such a glare of yellow light 
Along the dusty street, 
I'd rather leave it far behind 

And steal awhile away 
To where the beechen shadows 
Kiss the cool grass at their feet, 

— And there to lie a-dreaming. 

Far off I hear the tumult 

Of music and of mirth ; 
Far off I hear the clamor 
Of the laughing girls and boys; 
But the trees are whisp'ring secrets 

To the listening ear of earth, 
And life is much too sweet 
To-day for hurry or for noise, 

— rd rather lie a-dreaminc:. 







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SEPTEMBER. 

Ripe, ripe, and mellow ! 
Apples red and yellow, 
Peaches in the orchard. 

Grapes upon die wall, 
Berries in the hedges. 
Nuts upon the ledges, 
Dusky bloom of purple plum 

And nectarine that fall 
Ripe, ripe, and mellow ! 

Wet days and sunny, 
Nature-gathered honey, 
Fragrant wealth of fruit and wine 

To gladden all the earth; 
Now that summer's going, 
What have I for showing — 
What from all the happy days 

To make the winter's mirth 
Ripe, ripe, and mellow? 




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OCTOBER. 

The golden woods shine like a glory; 

The air is as balm ; 
The land is as fair as a story ; 

The waves sing a psalm ; 
Like censers of incense the pungent 

Swift odors ascend ; 
And far in the distant horizon 

Where sea and sky blend ; 
We know not where Heaven beginneth 

Or where Earth may end. 

Dear Heart ! read the joy and the sweetness ; 

Endeavor to see 
The lesson in all its completeness 

That God giveth thee : 
So full of the light of the spirit 

The body should glow 
When nearing its time of departure, 

That we could not know 
Which steps crossed the threshold of Heaven 

And left us below ! 



NOVEMBER. 

O HOW withered and dead 

The face of the bare earth lies 
Under the leafless trees 

And the frown of the drooping skies ! 
O how silent and sad 

She sleeps in her gloomy rest, 
With never the song of a bird 

And never a flower on her breast, 

— And yet from the gloom and the silence 
The far-oft' spring shall arise ! 

Nay ! in the hidden life 

Of the pretty things sleejDing below, 
Waiting the moment of waking, 

Ready to bourgeon and grow. 
Who shall say but the touch 

Of this cool dark quiet to-day. 

Is full of as saving grace 
As the strong warm kisses of May ; 

— And which is the dearest and kindest, 
No soul upon earth may know ! 



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DECEMBER. 

Some fellows go blowing for Springtime, 

And some will hurrah for the Fall ; 
Some think that there's nothing like marbles, 

And some that there's nothing like ball ; 
But if you want regular rackets 

With more fun than ever was guessed, 
With coasting and skating and sliding, 

And ever3thing just at its best — 
The jolly old month of December 

Is worth any two of the rest. 

For then there is ice on the river, 

And then there is snow on the hill, 
And the days are so short and so shining, 

And the nights are so white and so still : 
And then at the end there is Christmas, 

Of which I have no cause for complaint, 
When your stockings get filled by your mother 

Or some other sort of a saint ; 
Now, if there's anything better, 

I'd just like to know — but there ain't! 



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